


What's A King (To A God?)

by joidianne4eva



Category: American Gods (TV), American Gods - Neil Gaiman
Genre: M/M, Mythology - Freeform, Symbolism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-22
Updated: 2017-10-22
Packaged: 2019-01-21 07:31:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12452604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joidianne4eva/pseuds/joidianne4eva
Summary: "The basic human need to be watched was once satisfied by God."For a man who became a thing of myth and a thing of myth that became something like a God, the words ring true.Sadly, no one ever told Mad Sweeney that Gods needed to be watched too.Thankfully, no one told Shadow Moon that either.





	What's A King (To A God?)

**Author's Note:**

> Binge watched this show in a day.

“You keep giving away your life. You don’t much care if you live or die, do you?”

The words weren’t said with sympathy or pity, they were just a statement of fact and Shadow found his eyes dipping from Polunochnaya’s even as she turned from him.

Mr Wednesday had alluded to something similar but the man hadn’t said the words outright…then again Mr Wednesday rarely said anything outright. It was just one more thing in a list of many things that pissed Shadow off.

The prison shrink had talked about it once, had asked Shadow if he’d let himself die if he had the chance.

Shadow hadn’t thought much of it at the time because he’d had something to live for but after Laura…it was a niggling whisper in the back of his head, one that he pretended not to listen to. Or maybe it had been there before Laura but she’d just distracted him from it.

Inhaling slowly he forced himself to focus on Polunochnaya’s words.

“I will give you two things. One is yours to keep, it will serve you well if know what you are looking for,” she commented as she rummaged through a small bag resting at the base of her telescope.

“What exactly am I supposed to be looking for?” Shadow frowned but she didn’t respond, instead she muttered to herself as she dug deeper and deeper into the bag until she was almost shoulder deep.

Shadow didn’t think about the fact that the bag was barely bigger than a purse. He didn’t think about a lot of things these days and honestly that was probably the only reason why he had any sanity left.

“There you are,” Polunochnaya muttered, yanking her arm back with a sharp snap and something made a rumbling growl from within the bag but Shadow wasn’t thinking about it…he wasn’t.

“Here,” Polunochnaya beamed, slapping a large book in Shadow’s arms and for a second he struggled under its weight until the sensation vanished and the thing in his hands weighed just what it should’ve. “This you should keep but the other you will give away.”

“What other?”

Shadow almost voiced the words but the next thing he knew Polunochnaya was talking over him about a kiss and then there were lips pressed to his own and Shadow had to fight the urge to step back.

He never got the chance, instead he watched in awe as Polunochnaya plucked the moon out of the sky.

“This one you will give away but do not let it be swindled from you. Give it of your own free will and you may get back what you lost the first time,” she instructed with a soft smile and in that moment Shadow knew that he wasn’t staring at a person.

For a second before she told him to wake Shadow had seen the beginning and the end of all things glittering in the depths of Polunochnaya’s eyes.

Then he woke, with a heavy weight on his chest and a silver coin in his pocket.

*O*

Shadow almost missed Wednesday’s mutterings, partially because he was starting to realize that ignoring Wednesday was probably the best way to deal with him and partially because he was still trying to make heads or tails of the book that Polunochnaya had given to him.

He did notice the silence and he frowned at Wednesday when he glanced up only to find the man staring at him.

“What?”

“Where did you get that?” Wednesday inquired, nodding towards the book.

Shadow shrugged because there was no way that he was going to admit that he’d gotten it in a dream not after the fiasco with the snow.

One delusion a day was enough for him.

“Must have picked it up somewhere,” he offered up, changing the page.

The book was written in a language that Shadow couldn’t read but he’d spent most of the time, while he was waiting for their food, staring at the pictures on the pages.

Wednesday hummed beneath his breath, “If I’d known you were interested in Irish mythology I’d have asked Mad Sweeney to stick around.”

Shadow’s expression twisted into a grimace at the thought.

His ribs still ached and despite his run in with the little techno-dick, Shadow was pretty sure that the pain was all Sweeney’s fault.

The fucker didn’t know the meaning of pull a punch.

The door jingled behind him and Shadow dropped his eyes back to the book. He’d actually been looking forward to reading it; if nothing else prison had taught him the virtues of sticking his face in a book until the other person gave up on trying to get a rise out of him.

“Speak of the devil,” Wednesday muttered, “Mad Sweeney…”

The name had Shadow’s head snapping up as he slammed the book shut, ignoring the pinch of pain when one of the pages sliced through his finger.

Sweeney’s demands for his coin almost made Shadow laugh because he knew a tantrum when he saw one and Sweeney looked like he was one stomp away from throwing himself on the floor.

Polunochnaya’s words echoing in the back of his head made him hold his tongue. After all he _had_ thrown away Sweeney’s gift, regardless of if he would have been willing to give it back or not, that was on him.

Sweeney’s eyes searched his face when Shadow told him where he’d tossed the coin and whatever the man could see there seemed to be enough for him because he slumped on his perch, half-heartedly stealing the rest of Shadow’s food.

Shadow let him…mostly because Sweeney seemed to be fond of anything green which meant Shadow wouldn’t have to leave them behind and face the glower he usually got from the busboys.

He was a grown-ass man. If he didn’t want to eat vegetables, he wasn’t going to.

“Doin’ some light reading?” Sweeney prodded between bites and Shadow followed his gaze to the book. “Didn’t think you even knew how to,” Sweeney finished up nastily and Shadow contemplated upending the rest of his meal on Sweeney’s head.

“Don’t you have a coin to go cry about?” Shadow taunted and the sharp-eyed look he got said that he’d kicked Sweeney right where it hurt.

The man stood, towering over Shadow for a moment but Shadow just leaned back in his seat so that he could meet Sweeney’s eyes.

“Word to the wise, that shite right there never gets the violence right. If there’s one thing an Irish Pantheon’s good at it’s fucking shit up.”

The words sounded like a threat but Sweeney was heading for the door before Shadow could answer.

“Good luck, Mad Sweeney,” Mr Wednesday called after him and the bird he got flipped in response had Shadow snorting.

“That’s one angry leprechaun,” he noted, chewing the piece of lettuce Sweeney had left behind. It was the only piece of vegetable left and despite Shadow’s dislike of the things he could manage one leaf.  He felt like he owed the restaurant staff that much after he’d chased off the only person actually willing to eat the damn things.

“I wouldn’t quite describe Mad Sweeney as a leprechaun,” Wednesday chuckled.

“It’s what he said he was,” Shadow replied, pushing his plate away. When he glanced up Wednesday was staring out the window at the drifting snow, a small smile curling his lips.

“A leprechaun?” he huffed.

Shadow didn’t respond to the words, instead he re-opened his book.

Thankfully the page he flipped to was translated and Shadow let the words there distract him from Mad Sweeney and Wednesday.

He barely noticed the smear of blood marring the very corner of the page.

*O*

Shadow’s dead wife was haunting him. He’d been kidnapped and now he was dreaming of Mad Sweeney.

If that didn’t make him insane he didn’t know what did.

“You got a gift for me too?” he inquired, walking up to the man but Sweeney didn’t acknowledge him.

Instead the redhead kept staring out at the lights glittering in the distance.

Shadow approached him then, pausing at the edge of the building they were standing on. He wasn’t scared of heights but the dark yawning abyss that met his eyes made his stomach churn.

Shifting his attention away from it, he stared at Sweeney but the man’s gaze was still fixed on something Shadow couldn’t see.

“I used to be a king,” Sweeney sighed, “Ye stuck me in this place with this curse like I’m nothin’ but I used to be a bleedin’ king and even before that….”

Shadow’s brows furrowed at the defeat in Sweeney’s tone. “Come on, idiot. Nobody’s cursed you; this is just a stupid, messed up dream that you’re going to laugh at when you wake up.”

Sweeney didn’t hear him and when Shadow reached out to touch him, prod him…do something to make the man stop looking like he was staring at his own death, his fingers passed through Sweeney’s shoulder.

“Can’t even die like this,” Sweeney whispered and the words curled around Shadow’s throat as Sweeney took one step then another.

Shadow grabbed for him but his fingers danced through the mist that surrounded Sweeney’s body as it hurled from the roof.

Shadow’s shout of horror was eclipsed by the haunting call of a raven that winged itself out into the night and the shadows followed it, chasing after it as it spiralled out towards the lights.

Shadow woke to the sound of screams and a single raven feather on his pillow.

The book had said that ravens represented warfare. Shadow didn’t know what war his dream-Sweeney had been fighting but he hoped the real Sweeney was at least better at not giving up.

*O*

“Do you think dreams are important?”

The question made Wednesday look up from his meal and Shadow met the man’s gaze steadily.

“I’d say it depends on the dream,” he finally offered up and Shadow nodded, playing with his drink.

“Heard anything from Mad Sweeney?” he asked and honestly he wanted to grab the words back the second they hit the air because Mr Wednesday’s eyes narrowed with speculation, roaming over Shadow’s face.

“If you’re worried about his coin, don’t be,” Wednesday offered up, “It’s a mental thing. The more he wants the coin, the more power he gives to it.”

“So it’s not lucky,” Shadow frowned, gripping the silver coin in his pocket tight.

“It has a degree of luck, yes but it’s not luck linked to Mad Sweeney. The important thing about the coin is the intent. Whether he knew it or not, he wanted to give you the coin. That’s what you should be thinking about.”

“But he said…”

Wednesday waved the words away before Shadow could finish the sentence. “What Mad Sweeney says and what he means are two very different things. He wanted you to have the coin, that’s all that matters.”

“And then I threw it away,” Shadow added, clenching his fingers tight around the coin in his pocket until the edges started biting into his palm.

“And then you threw it away,” Wednesday agreed.

Shadow mulled the situation over for a long moment, “Do you know how to contact him?”

“Why, of course,” Wednesday smiled, “But the question is, do you really want to contact him?”

Smoothing his thumb over his coin, Shadow nodded as he remembered the Mad Sweeney in his dream. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure I do.”


End file.
